Still, Again

Last night, I had a horrible meltdown. I guess my grief had been
simmering all day long and I should have known that as soon as I got
too tired to stay awake, I would lose control of my emotions.

Sometimes I think about how much time has passed since I have been
held by somebody. Years have gone by since my last romantic hug.
Years. Developing infatuations for men that I meet is not an uncommon
occurrence for me. Last night, I found myself thinking about the men
I have met since Chris died, unavailable men, and how at one time or
another I have wished each one of them would wrap their arms around
me and tell me everything is going to be okay. Isn’t that what
everybody wants?

But alas, they’re married or involved or gay or uninterested or I
imagine that they would never, in a billion years, put up with the
fact that I sometimes fall apart at night when I think about
everything that happened and all of the ways my Chris lost his
freedom and ultimately his life. Who would put up with that? I know
somebody will eventually, but not unitl I stop believing that my
grief is unacceptable.

I need to stand my ground and maintain that grief is part of who I am
now and anybody who has trouble accepting that is not as open-minded
and accepting as I am, and as a result, he will not be a good match
for me. Emotion is a part of everybody’s life.

I want to be loved, again. And I want to love back.

And I still hurt tremendously.